2007-02-25 04:00:00 PDT Honolulu -- If I go down to Kapahulu Avenue on the last day of a trip to Honolulu, I am going to get into trouble. I might never make it back to the mainland.

The avenue is my main route from Waikiki to the freeway that takes me to the airport. But it is lined with great snack shops on seemingly every block that beckon my rental car to the curb. Soon I am thinking, "What's wrong with just one last quick stop for kalua pork, Korean-style ribs, homemade breads, pineapple cake or hot exotic doughnuts?"

Perfect pork: Ono Hawaiian Foods, 726 Kapahulu Ave., (808) 737-2275. If you don't want to spend the time and money for a full-blown luau, you can sample the show's signature dish -- kalua pork -- at this tiny restaurant. In its flashier version, the slow-roasted pork comes out of an imu, an underground pit stove covered with taro leaves that is the centerpiece of the luau. There's less show at Ono Hawaiian Foods, but the kalua pork is better than at nearly all the luaus I have attended over the years.

Photos of local newscasters, beauty queens and politicians that hang above the booths attest to the hole-in-the-wall's drawing power. You'll be hard-pressed to spend $15 per person here.

Golden temple: Waiola Bakery and Shave Ice, 525 Kapahulu Ave., (808) 735-8884. The little shop in the McCully neighborhood is better known on the island as one of the few places near Waikiki where you can get a first-class shave ice (Hawaii's vastly superior take on the traditional snow cone). But I come for the golden-topped baked goods, especially the amazing sweet azuki bean rolls. A soft globe of dough wraps the sweet, brown paste in the middle.

Grab a tray and tongs, take what you want and they ring you up at the register.

Three-peat: Rainbow Drive-In, corner of Kapahulu and Kanaina avenues, (808) 737-0177. The mainland has seen an explosion of traditional Hawaiian plate lunch spots (including transplanted outlets of the venerable L&L chain). Plate lunches are hefty, cheap and good. The Rainbow Drive-In in Honolulu offers some of the best. I like the pork chops smothered in gravy or the Portuguese sausage. A popular choice is shoyu (soy sauce) chicken.

The main dish comes with two sides -- traditionally steamed white rice and macaroni salad, but you can play with the lineup a bit. Sometimes it's not much to look at -- a mound of white and yellow starches flanked by meat slathered in brown gravy. But dig in and you'll see why the office workers and small-time contractors in their white trucks flock here at lunchtime.

Flight to fancy: Sam Choy's Diamond Head Grill, 449 Kapahulu Ave., (808) 732-8645. Honolulu is known for its famous chefs who name their restaurants after themselves. Roy's (Yamaguchi), Chef Mavro (George Mavrothalassitis) and Alan Wong's all tout their creator. Kapahulu Avenue's entry in the celebrity-chef sweepstakes is Sam Choy's Diamond Head Grill, up a flight of stairs in a strip mall building. Choy's choice of a location in a busy business district keeps the focus on the food instead of ocean views.

Choy made his name as a television cooking-show chef, and the "show" goes on in the restaurant. The best seats are at the kitchen-front bar, where cooks heave ingredients into flaming woks that light up the room. Signature dishes include the fried poke appetizer, marinated butterfish, wok-cooked Roadside Garlic Shrimp (one of the flaming dishes), and Perfect Oven Roasted Duck. Finish up with a dessert of Wahiawa Pineapple Cheesecake.

It's one of the few places on Kapahulu Avenue that will put a big hit on your wallet. My dinner of appetizer, soup, entree, dessert, coffee and one drink came to about $70. Not cheap, but likely less than you'll pay over at one of the showpiece "name chef" restaurants in the Waikiki, Kahala or Hawaii Kai neighborhoods.

Just desserts: Leonard's Bakery, 933 Kapahulu Ave., (808) 737-5591.

The sign out front should say "Destroying Diets since 1952!" Leonard's is Honolulu's leading purveyor of malasadas, a kind of hot, airy doughnut first made by the Portuguese in the Azores. Malasadas start out as 2-inch balls of dough, but expand when fried in oil. They're finished off with a liberal sprinkling of powdered sugar or cinnamon sugar. Anyone trying to stay on a low-carb diet should lock the doors and avert their gaze as they pass by.

Most customers buy about a half-dozen of the palm-sized wonders, with, I'd say, about 25 percent of the malasadas never making it out of the parking lot.